


Food For Thought

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Fate/Slutty Meme Magus [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: He can try to be right all he wants, but he'll end up wrong if he doesn't watch hard enough.





	Food For Thought

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna write as many black girl self inserts as I want because I'm the boss now!

"Merlin!" Ifumi cried. "There's no internet!"

There's a little hum from the room nearby; with a bit of shifting that sounds an awful lot like someone skipping, a soothing voice calls, "Coming, Master, coming." There’s a little bit of rustling, and Ifumi doesn’t have to double check if it’s because of the ever-shifting flowers to know the shady wizard is approaching as quickly as he can in a manner he is comfortable with before he shows his face. “You rang~?”

“Yes!” She chirped. “Can you stand near me for a second? I wanted to look up something on the internet and your spell wore off.”

It was a strange thing, knowing he had his own personal Wifi hotspot- or, moreso, that he _ was _ the Wifi hotspot. Merlin had explained it as “something, something magical currents”, (word for word, Ifumi recalled) but she didn’t care as much about the inner workings as she did that she would be able to use google when he was close by.

“Mmhm,” he hums, leaning gently on his staff. “What are you searching for today?” 

And then, as he’s beginning to say, “P-” Ifumi cuts him off, “It’s not porn.”

“You’re no fun, Master,” he chuckles as he leans over her shoulder, though Ifumi holds her breath. He always smells like the kind of perfume that reminds her of summer nights and flower fields, but in a way that makes her too comfortable. She wonders if he does it on purpose or if it’s simply a fact of his life- though she suspects the former. 

“I just wanted to look up some recipes,” she tells him- though she’s unsure he actually wants to know. Merlin has a thing about being nosy for nosiness’ sake. “I forgot some of the things I used to like making, and I think some of you guys might like it.” She refrains from calling him a ‘Servant’ on purpose; he doesn’t quite feel like a Servant, really, and the way he flits about Chaldea is more akin to a friend who’s along for the ride. 

“Oh? Ifumi, you cook?” It’s also a bit strange to be called her name so casually. Most people around the base purposely forgo saying it and replace it with ‘Master’. She never thought it would be so jarring to hear it. 

“Very well, actually,” she said. “Or, I used to. Now it’s just Emiya in the kitchen.” Then she says, “I know you called yourself my fan, but please back up a little bit.” She’d begun wondering if the curly coils of her puff had been tickling him in the face enough to make him move on his own, but apparently not.

“Mmhm,” he leans back, though he rounds her side to look over at her phone. It makes her think of her younger cousins. 

“...I thought you weren’t all that interested in normal people food?” She asks, half teasing.

“Oh, it’s not that I’m not interested,” he says dismissively, “it’s that I don’t get much by way of sustenance with it. But I eat food on occasion, and I can even tell if it’s good!”

She finds herself smiling at that. “Are you going to taste test for me, then?”

He hums, rounding her person so that he’s gone in a complete circle around her. “I’m sure you have _ plenty _ of Servants for that, hm, Master?” He swings his staff a little bit. “They'll line up to get a taste from anything you make.”

“Because I’m a good cook,” she begins, but he tuts at her.

“Because you’re _ cute_!” Then, as though he’s giving a presentation, he spreads his arms. “All Servants love you, Master! There’s no greater novelty than being served food by a pretty young woman, after all, and even better when you know her intentions are pure!”

“Even you?” She asks, deciding not to begin addressing what he’s saying, as most of the time it sounds so ridiculous that she wonders how much of it even _ he _ believes. “You’re my Servant. Do you love me too, Caster?”

“I’m your fan,” he answers with a smile, and then winks at her. “Of course I love you.”

“You don’t,” she laughed. “That’s not what love is. You’re saying they want my food because I’m cute, but that’s not love. Love is wanting my food because they think-” She pauses, realizing suddenly that it’s hard to describe. “...I don’t know. But it has less to do with how I look and...more to do with what I mean to them.”

“Don’t looks fall under that?” He asks. His eyes even sparkle when he says it. She wants to curse at him for having such beautiful features.

“Sometimes,” she admits. “But it’s more about...that warm feeling you get when someone else is near. Comfort in being in their presence. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.” She shrugs. 

She doesn’t miss the look of genuine confusion that crosses his features; he’s studying her like one would an alien, or like she’s grown two heads. “If it’s indescribable, how can you know it exists?”

“You just do,” she answered. “I can’t describe myself, but _ I _ exist, right?”

“Hah! But _ I _ can describe you, Master,” he begins, and she shakes her head.

“You can’t describe _ all _ of me. I can’t describe...I can’t _ quantify _ why the world ending would be bad- I mean, other than dying,” she explains. “Even though the thought gives me a horrible sinking feeling that’s hard to make sense of. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real, or that the possibility isn’t there.”

He’s quiet now, as though thinking very hard about something; his eyes are still on her, though his face shifts from confusion to a more calm mask of understanding. “I see,” he said, closing his eyes. Then, “Well! I’ve a new spell to work on, so unless you need me for anything else, I’ll be off, Master.”

There’s an air about the expression that makes her stare at him for a little too long; she nods a little bit, but something about his parting unsettles her. “...okay.” Then, politely, “Dinner is in an hour!”

* * *

When Merlin isn’t around for dinner- for which she’s prepared her grandmother’s turkey chili- she grabs a bowl and heads down the hall to his room. It’s quiet as she goes; most Servants are either eating or in their own rooms, as the ones that don’t like to eat- or refuse to- usually just mind their own business during these times of day. “Merlin?”

He’s not in his room when she knocks, or at least it seems so; the door is slightly ajar, so she pushes it open, hoping to set the bowl on the desk inside. In reality, Merlin _ is _ there, sitting at what looks to be a very fancy laptop and typing furiously. 

She wants to clear her throat and alert him to her presence, but some of his nosiness has rubbed off on her; with a little shuffling into the room, she peers over at the large monitor and her eyes scan the words on the screen.

“...are you. Are you roleplaying?” She finds herself asking aloud. 

He doesn’t stop typing. “I’m doing more than that, Master. Did you need something? A stable internet connection? A spell to turn your hair purple? A kiss from a handsome wizard-”

“I brought you food! And I’ve caught you catfishing somebody!” She gasped. Indeed, the words on the screen denoted something more than roleplay; there were pictures, in fact, of a white-haired woman who looked a great deal like Merlin himself, and there were some compromising pictures of her feet. 

“Oh? Food? For me?” He stops typing and looks up at her from his chair. “Thank you~”

“This isn’t a new spell,” she mused. “But I can’t believe you’re catfishing this…” She glanced at the username. “‘DoctorLoveless99’. Hm. Nevermind, sounds like a creep.”

A melodious chime of laughter rings from his throat. “You sound a little too open-minded, Master. I’m not _ scamming _ him, I’m just giving him what he wants. Human connection.”

Somehow she doubts DoctorLoveless99 is the only one who wants it. She leans forward. “Whose feet are those?”

He puts a finger to his lips, eyes sparkling. “Who else’s? Mine.”

Her hands fly to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “_ Merlin!” _

“Don’t kinkshame!” He shouts, though he sounds somewhat gleeful. It reminds her of his shameless nature. She doesn’t hate that about him, though. “At times like this, humanity is quite predictable, but interesting.”

“I’m not kinkshaming!” She replies in the same tone, though she can’t help giggling. “...maybe a little. Still! Be…I don’t know! Nice!”

“I’m being _ very _ nice,” he informs her with a smile...and then a wink. It’s clear ‘nice’ means two different things to the both of them. “Thanks for the soup!”

“It’s chili,” she corrects him. “Chili is a stew.”

“Everything is soup if there’s enough liquid,” he smiled, eyes twinkling. “Good night, Master!” 

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes and shaking her head. No wonder everyone wanted to hit him. “Good night.”


End file.
